Hexed

We shriek, instinctively ducking. Metal crunches overhead, and then two shiny alligator shoes step onto the hood. My heart races, adrenaline surging through my veins.

 

The feet hop off the hood. Frederick bends next to the driver’s-side door, his face just centimeters from mine. His mouth curves into a menacing smile.

 

“Drive!” Paige yells.

 

I fumble with the keys, unable to break eye contact with Frederick. But the car won’t start. The engine doesn’t even attempt to turn over.

 

“It won’t start!” I cry.

 

“Try harder.”

 

“I am trying! It’s not working.”

 

Frederick circles around the front of the car, knocking out a tune on the hood.

 

As Frederick nears Paige’s side, she inches back against me so that she’s practically in my lap.

 

I catch sight of the group of clubgoers a few car lengths’ down, and for a fleeting moment hope flares up inside me that they’ll help, or at the very least, run for help—but they don’t move. A girl holds a camera out and her friends all huddle for a picture, but they’re just as frozen as if I were looking at a photograph. No one’s going to come. No one’s going to help us.

 

“Now this is just getting silly,” Frederick says, his voice muted by the quarter-inch of glass between us. I can hardly hear him above the sound of my heartbeat.

 

He circles around the car again, and Paige and I crane our necks to follow his movements. He nears my window and bends low, regarding me with icy blue eyes.

 

“I just want my mom back,” I manage.

 

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he says. “She’s in good company. You might know him, actually. A little brat by the name of Bishop. They’ve been great support for each other. And you know, support is very important when you’ve …” He trails off, then waves his hand. “Well, better not get into specifics.”

 

A sob escapes me, a sick sense of foreboding clamping down on my chest.

 

“But then I got to thinking. You know, it’s not very fair for them to have all the fun.” He smiles to reveal a row of crooked, decaying teeth, then braces his hands on the hood of the car.

 

The rocking starts gently, like the tremor of a small car as a semi whooshes past on the interstate. A spider of dread climbs up my spine. Paige and I exchange wide-eyed stares, and the spider becomes a big, hairy tarantula. Frederick quickly picks up momentum, and the car rocks hard from left to right, knocking Paige and me against each other and the windows, then is suspended on two wheels for mere seconds before crashing down hard in the other direction. My head smashes against the window, and a searing pain shoots through my skull. White spots dance in my vision. I feebly brace my arms, trying to stop some of the impact, some of the pain.

 

But then the rocking stops.

 

My first thought is that someone’s saved us. But when my eyes adjust, Frederick is still there, walking in front of the car, taking slow, purposeful steps as if he’s got all the time in the world. He locks eyes with me and tips his head to the side, one thumb under his chin as he taps an index finger on his lips. And that’s when I realize something: he’s not going to kill me. Even if killing me wouldn’t bleed him of his powers, he wouldn’t do it. He’s going to keep me alive until he gets what he wants. But Paige? He has no reason to keep her alive.

 

“Should we make a run for it?” Paige asks between gasps for air.

 

I swallow. “On the count of three”—I drop my voice to barely a whisper—“you go left and I’ll go right.”

 

“What? No way.” Paige clings to my arm.

 

“It’s the only way either of us has a chance.” It’s the only way you have a chance. I squeeze her clammy, shaking hand.

 

She nods, biting down on her lips as tears stream over her pale cheeks.

 

“Good luck.”

 

Frederick moves in my peripheral vision. Time’s up for mushy moments.

 

We scramble to open the doors, and without another glance at each other, dash across the garage in opposite directions.

 

“Indigo, what sort of way is this to treat your old pal?” Frederick says, his lilting voice sending a chill rippling through me. But his voice is distant now, like he hasn’t moved. Like he’s letting me run. Which should make me feel relieved, but instead it just makes me wonder what he’s got up his sleeve. If he’s going to go after Paige instead of me.